


The Dark Circles Under My Eyes Are Just the Beginning | A Wilde Week 2020 | Day 1 | Forgiveness/Apathy

by Das_Silberschlussel



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: A Wilde Week 2020 (Rusty Quill Gaming), Damascus Arc (Rusty Quill Gaming), Day 1 - Forgivness/Apathy, but not super gory, no beta we die like bertie, some blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:47:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27597755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Das_Silberschlussel/pseuds/Das_Silberschlussel
Summary: Day 1 - “Always forgive your enemies; nothing annoys them so much."Forgiveness | ApathyJust a word spill about what might have happened before Grizzop found Wilde after everyone left for Rome.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20
Collections: A Wilde Week 2020





	The Dark Circles Under My Eyes Are Just the Beginning | A Wilde Week 2020 | Day 1 | Forgiveness/Apathy

The lack of sleep was getting to him, he knew it, and everyone around him knew it. Even with the liberal application of cantrips he knew the lack of rest was doing nothing in the long run. Wilde swiped a hand over his face for what could have been the third time in the last ten minutes an attempt at trying to get his eyes to stop crossing.

He looked down at the piles of paperwork that his erstwhile team had decided to dump on him. Every moment making him regret even the smallest amount of praise he had passed on to Apophis. He reached out to his left and fumbled at the cup of a thermos of tea, anything to keep him just a little more focused. His vision started to spin again; a twisting, jumbling mess of parchment yellow and dried ink that looked just vaguely enough like blood.

' _As long as it isn't mine._ ' he thought before he reached out for the next piece of barely decipherable information. He downed the tea, the pain as it scorched his throat was the one thing that managed to keep him as on task. He lost himself in the words and the sloping lines of text.

The sharp pain splitting in the side of his head barely managed to pull him from his stupor followed by a sharp tug on his hair so he ended up blearily looking into the cowl of something. He could barely focus on the figure but he did manage to pull together a light smirk.

“Afternoon, gentlemen.” he said slurring his words and vaguely thinking of the tea that must have spilled. “Seems you caught me at a,” he winced,” bad time.”

The figure spat some jumble of words that did not translate in even his language heavy head.

“Sure, I forgive you, but you want anything you'll have to come back tomorrow.” the smirk returned to his face before he collided once again with the desk and the papers.


End file.
